


Damped Harmonic Motion

by Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Fellatio, M/M, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the last three weeks, Henry has become far more comfortable with the mechanics of foreplay, frottage, fingering, and fucking, but not, as of yet, fellatio. (Set three weeks after "The Ghosts of Departed Quantities" in the "Crescive in his Faculty" AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damped Harmonic Motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angevin2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angevin2/gifts).



Thursday becomes a recurring scheduled event for Henry. The repeated exposure to Richard doesn't make his personality any less abrasive, nor his comments sting less, but over the next three weeks the event starts feeling slightly less unreal, the idea that Henry can go over to Richard's flat and pin him to the bed and fuck him until he comes completely undone finally acquiring the same solidity in his consciousness as his ability to walk to the corner store and buy milk.

But of course he can't get too comfortable, because on the fourth week, just after he's gotten into Richard's bed and they've started removing the outermost layers of each others' clothes, Richard says, "I've been thinking about your unhealthy aversion to getting sucked off. Did someone bite you, or is it just a neurosis thing?"

"Do not talk about _biting_ when I'm getting naked," Henry says, partially to cover his rising panic and partly because seriously, when was that _ever_ an appropriate thing to bring up?

Over the last three weeks, Henry has become far more comfortable with the mechanics of foreplay, frottage, fingering, and fucking, but not, as of yet, fellatio. He's gotten used to the idea that he'll be able to keep doing what he's good at--fucking Richard in the arse until Richard stops talking and turns into an incoherent, orgasming mess. It's fantastic, Richard doesn't seem to mind, and it means he can keep the amount of time Richard spends talking, by which he means complaining, down to a minimum. And the absolute last position that Henry wants to be in with Richard complaining at him is one where he has Richard's cock in his mouth.

All talk of biting aside.

"Not that I'm getting _bored_ with the grinding and penetrating," Richard says, in a tone of voice that implies he was definitely getting bored, "but one does like to show off once in a while, especially when one has worked so hard at cultivating a talent."

"Yes, well," Henry says, "some of us haven't spent our lives practicing gay sex in ethically dubious combinations."

He hoped that Richard would get offended at the slight on his largely imaginary virtues, but instead Richard props himself up on his elbows and looks pityingly in Henry's direction. "Oh, _dear,"_ he says. "If you're _admitting_ you lack skill in something, you must really have never had the pleasure."

"I'm not sure I want to bother doing you the favor," Henry mutters.

"Hmm," Richard says, then rolls over and gets his fingers in Henry's half-undone tie--which he is only wearing because he came from a later-than-normal meeting, and not because he's dressing up for Richard like this is some kind of _date_. "You know," Richard says thoughtfully, "these things are incredibly useful for everything _except_ fashion. Why we ever kept them when we lost the cravat I don't understand."

"You are the kind of person who'd wear a cravat," Henry says, "And a corset. And--" he supposes that it's a kind of "nnrgh" sound he makes when Richard wraps the silk around his wrists and pulls, and all of a sudden his wrists are bound in an elegant little knot with the derivation of the classical wave equation decorating the outside.

"Now that I've got your attention," Richard says, and Henry is quite aware that his necktie is not a magic thread which connects the pressure on his hands straight to his cock, but when Richard gives his wrists another tug the effect is much as if it were. "I assume I can go back to taking your trousers off and having my way with you? Or--" he smirks, and somehow the expression is attractive on him, or maybe that's just Henry's erection talking, "--you could bother 'doing me the favor', if we have to use those ridiculous circumlocutions. Or you could just suck me off."

Henry swallows, hard, feels a kind of scratchiness in his throat he wasn't expecting. "You're not getting any less sordid resorting to bondage, you know."

"Sordid? Oh," Richard says, and he pushes himself off the bed and onto his feet. "You're the one who showed up wearing a tie and a jumper, like some kind of schoolboy."

"Shut up, it was cold," Henry says, then makes an undignified noise as Richard hauls him off the bed by his bound wrists. Richard is stronger than he looks, when he puts his whole weight into things; Henry doesn't have enough time to really react and he winds up on his knees on the carpet, nose a few inches from the fly of Richard's jeans.

Richard lets go of his hands to get his fly undone, and Henry sinks back onto his heels, in a position that will be really bad for his knees and his thighs shortly. He is distracted by the first twinges of bondage-yoga-induced stress by Richard shoving his trousers down his thighs, and the appearance of Richard's cock, half erect and bobbing gently in front of his nose.

The temptation, he admits, to lean forward and lick it is not completely lacking. But it's turning into a matter of pride, so he leans back and scowls. "It's not going to be that easy," he says. "And you're the one who brought up biting."

"You won't bite," Richard retorts. "You're too well-bred. Come here."

And then Richard just reaches out and grabs Henry by the back of the head, threading his fingers through Henry's hair, tugging gently but insistently.

Henry thinks for perhaps a tenth of a second about bringing his bound hands up and whacking Richard where it'll really hurt before he lunges forward, mouth open. Richard laughs, startled, as Henry's mouth closes on the tip of his cock, then re-settles his hands and hums happily.

The encouragement is nice, because once he gets the head of Richard's dick in his mouth Henry isn't really sure what to do. Especially with his hands tied together. He tentatively licks at the shape in his mouth, hoping that "dick in the mouth" is the secret gay sex move that will unlock his unconscious and brilliant fellatio skills. So far it doesn't seem to be working.

"Don't over-think it," Richard says. "I can hear your brain working. Less thinking, more sucking."

Henry pulls his lips taut obligingly and sucks, and Richard thrusts a very small distance into his mouth. "Mmm, better," he says. "Keep doing that and you're well on your way."

After what feels like a few minutes Henry pulls his mouth off Richard's cock and says, "My knees are killing me."

"Oh, fooey," Richard says, slightly out of breath. "All right, get up on the bed."

That's a bit more of a tricky proposition with his hands tied together, but Henry manages to get on his knees and elbows. He's still wearing his trousers and his erection is starting to chafe every time he moves and still he can't help thinking how much he wants to go back to sucking Richard off. Richard shucks his trousers and his pants and climbs up onto the bed on his knees, his shirt falling open around his dick.

"Take off your shirt," Henry orders. "You look ludicrous."

"Fine," Richard says, working the buttons open petulantly. "Any other requests, your majesty?"

Henry leans forward on his wrists but can't quite close the distance. "Forward about twenty centimeters?"

Richard smiles devilishly and throws his shirt to the floor. "Oh, all right," he says, and manages to make inching forward on his knees look deliberate and sexual instead of awkward and uncomfortable. Which has Henry's full attention until his cock is within reach again. And God, he's probably making a mess of it, it's his very first blowjob-giving experience, but he leans forward and for a wonder his mouth lines up perfectly and for about thirty seconds it's the most blissful thing in the world, Richard's erection sliding hot and ready into his mouth and Richard's voice making that oh-so-lost noise of want.

And then Richard thrusts forward a little too far and Henry's _literally_ choking on cock, which is _far_ less sexy than it sounds. "Ggrrmf!" he yells, and he very nearly does bite.

"Sorry!" Richard says, pulling back, and he really does sound it. "And you were doing so well."

"Air is important, dammit," Henry says after he's swallowed a couple times to clear his throat.

"Oh, pish," Richard says. "You can hold your breath for almost a minute if pressed. Well, _I_ can."

"As I noted earlier--"

"Breath back?" Richard asks brightly, reaching down for Henry's head again. "Good. Open wide!"

And he _does,_ because this is making him harder than he's been in ages, and there doesn't seem to be too much of a trick to it, and this is Richard--perfect, prissy Richard, moaning above him and eyes half-closed and desperate fingers clenching in Henry's hair. And he looks so _fragile_ in some ways--cock in Henry's throat aside--like he's an angel in some Medieval painting being cast away from grace, that Henry suddenly wants to be that solace for him, give him that peace, and he closes his eyes and applies everything he knows about oral sex (giving, very little, receiving, mostly from Richard, dammit) and finally even forgets to breathe when Richard makes these little choked noises and comes.

And then he's really far too aware that he's got Richard's semen in his mouth and is really very uncomfortable with that fact, and isn't really happy with the alternatives, either.

Richard starts laughing at him when he sees the expression on his face. "Wastebasket to your left," he says. "Let me get your wrists."

Henry is sure that Richard takes far more time than he needs to untying him. Given that, he doesn't even bother to hide his distaste as he spits into the trash and wrinkles his nose at the taste. Richard just laughs again and sprawls backward, naked, on the bed.

"Well," Richard says, "Obviously I just need to tie you up more. You're very obliging after that."

"I can't afford to ruin any more ties," Henry says. Seriously, did Richard even own a tie? The damn things were ridiculously expensive for an uncomfortable strip of silk. "And were you going to reciprocate at all?"

"Oh, lovely," Richard says. He raises one hand and gestures vaguely in the air. "Get over here and take your clothes off, I am not crawling after you any more."

Henry shucks out of his shirt and trousers at least, and leans back on the bed so that he and Richard are more or less at eye level. "So," he asks, "how did I do?"

And that gets Richard to groan and lever himself up on his elbows. "I suppose I'll have to give you a proper demonstration," he says in a long-suffering tone of voice. "Or else you'll never get the measure of it."

"Not without choking, anyway," Henry says, which is probably the quickest he's been on his feet all week. Richard's sudden grin is delightful. "Go on, then."

And as Richard climbs over him, Henry registers for a fleeting moment that if things keep going this well, he might even wind up _liking_ Richard.

Perish the thought.


End file.
